


Mismatched Pieces

by satelliteinasupernova



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anxiety, Asexual Jughead Jones, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Roommates, Sex Repulsion, Sexual Content, also board games, and flirting, asexual person in a sexual relationship, establishing sexual boundaries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:14:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26543512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satelliteinasupernova/pseuds/satelliteinasupernova
Summary: Jughead hadn’t really been friends with his last roommate, and he hadn’t expected to be friends with Betty, either. It turned out that Betty was just someone who was easily capable of pulling him into her orbit.Betty was polite, cheerful, endlessly accommodating. She gave off the energy of someone he would assume to be a part of some sorority house, but underneath all that good-nature was a sharp wit that sent off sparks like flint hitting across steel. After only one conversation with her, he could feel himself fall into her pace.It had worried him from the start. Betty was thoughtful, sweet, and brilliant. It was impossible to ignore how strikingly beautiful she was. She was the kind of person anyone could easily find themselves enamored with. And there was little that made Jughead more uncomfortable than a crush.
Relationships: Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones, Cheryl Blossom/Veronica Lodge (background)
Comments: 36
Kudos: 129
Collections: 8th Bughead Fanfiction Awards - Nominees





	Mismatched Pieces

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to kayromantic and sandraven for helping beta!!
> 
> This fic is something I've been wanting to explore for awhile. I've written other fics that dealt with asexual readings of Jughead before, but this is the first time I've really dug into it as the main focus of the fic. I hope you enjoy it!

Betty was fuming when she returned to the apartment that afternoon, her cheeks flushed, her chest heaving with sharp, angry breaths. Jughead sat up from where he’d been slouched against the couch, pulling his headphones down from his ears.

“What’s wrong?”

Her eyes jumped to him, but she didn’t answer right away, instead she marched over and collapsed on the couch beside him.

“We broke up,” she said after a long drawn out pause. She kicked off her shoes and curled up her legs, leaning her back against the couch armrest.

“What’d he do?” Jughead asked, bluntly. Her expression was now more frustrated than sad, but over his time living with Betty, he had learned that for her the two emotions often came hand in hand.

“You say that like you know _I’m_ the one who broke up with _him_.” She gave him a disgruntled look, but he just responded with a wry smile.

Jughead hadn’t known Betty’s boyfriend- now ex-boyfriend- well enough to call him a friend, but he knew Adam to be resolutely steadfast, like if a block of concrete were a person. Mostly in a charming way.

Jughead arched an eyebrow at her before repeating, “What happened?”

She slouched into the cushions, shifting so that her feet were tucked under his legs. The angle made her frustration come across more like a pout.

“It wasn’t any one thing, I just… I really tried to explain to him what wasn’t working, but he just didn’t get it. I realized today that he would never get it.”

Jughead didn’t jump to respond. He waited, watching Betty run her fingers along the lines of her corduroy pants, across the ridge of her knee. Her frustration had given way to an air of defeat. It was a few minutes before she spoke again.

“At some point it started feeling less like a relationship... and more like a …” She made a face before she spoke the words. “A series of transactions. Like… it stopped being about doing things because we wanted each other to be _happy._ It was, _I’ll drive you across town_ , _to pay you back for helping set up for a club meeting_ . Or _I’ll go with you to this party because you went to this game_ . Or _I’ll do this in bed for you, because you did that for me._ ” She blinked, then winced, meeting his eyes, “Sorry, TMI.”

He shrugged, letting the topic drop.

With a soft sigh, she continued, “I don’t know why it bothers me so much now. We were doing well. We’d _been_ doing so well. And then while I wasn’t looking, it was like the whole thing had become a chore. Something I _had_ to do.”

Betty dropped her head back against the arm rest. “My mom is going to be such a pain about this. She’s always going on about how _perfect_ Adam is for me.”

On paper, this was probably true. Girls like Betty had boyfriends like Adam. Jughead had certainly never questioned it in the year he had known Betty.

Betty had already been with Adam when Jughead first met her. His last roommate had just graduated, and she’d been looking to move off campus. His apartment was within easy walking distance to her classes in the Engineering department, and a classmate of his had gotten them in touch with each other.

Jughead hadn’t really been friends with his last roommate, and he hadn’t expected to be friends with Betty, either. It turned out that Betty was just someone who was easily capable of pulling him into her orbit.

Betty was polite, cheerful, endlessly accommodating. She gave off the energy of someone he would assume to be a part of some sorority house, but underneath all that good-nature was a sharp wit that sent off sparks like flint hitting across steel. After only one conversation with her, he could feel himself fall into her pace.

It had worried him from the start. Betty was thoughtful, sweet, and brilliant. It was impossible to ignore how strikingly beautiful she was. She was the kind of person anyone could easily find themselves enamored with. And there was little that made Jughead more uncomfortable than a crush. 

Jughead could feel the trails of that past anxiety returning. It was much easier to not develop a crush on someone when they weren’t romantically available. 

He consoled himself with the thought that it wouldn’t be that way for long. Betty was popular, beautiful, and sociable. It was only a matter of time before she moved on with someone new.

  
  


Six months passed, and Betty and Judge had fell into a steady rhythm of comfortable companionship. Jughead mostly stopped worrying about his latent crush on Betty Cooper. He’d grown accustomed to the small changes of sharing time with a single Betty. They had always been easy company, but now Betty was around more often than she had been previously. They started planning meals together. Betty liked to cook extra leftovers over the weekend for easy access, and Jughead found more excuses to cook throughout the week. Jughead started to put aside true crime documentaries to watch with her, and she would remind him when a classic movie he wanted to watch was playing on TV.

An unlikely catalyst for change was an armful of board games Betty brought back to the apartment after a trip home for the weekend. Balanced up to her chin as she slid into the doorway, the collection had been easy to see from the sides of the old, yellow, frayed boxes. Monopoly, Yahtzee, Candyland, Twister, Guess Who, Clue.

“My mom was about to throw them out,” Betty explained. “I thought they might be fun to have at the apartment.

Jughead eyed the boxes. “Of course you were raised by a board game family.”

As she set the stack on the ledge of the cheap IKEA shelving unit they used for a tv stand, she glanced over at him curiously “You didn’t play board games?”

Jughead shrugged, turning back to his video game, his character awkwardly stuck walking in place in between command prompts. “We weren’t exactly the _gather ‘round the living room after dinner_ kind of family.”

“I’ll convert you,” she said cheerfully, as she collapsed into the couch next to him.

  
  


Betty had an eclectic group of friends that loved to party, and were far more popular than anyone within Jughead’s own social circle. It took him a long time to admit it to himself, but they were fun to be around on the occasion that they chose to gather at Betty’s and his apartment. 

The mainstays were Veronica, a business major with a passion for fashion, who had claimed Betty as her _bestie_ as soon as they met as first year roommates, Kevin, an ambitious drama student who regularly supplied them with tickets to student productions and seemed to know every student at the college, Reggie, a quintessential bro with a football scholarship, who, despite fitting well within the jock stereotype, was using his scholarship towards a psychology degree against the wishes of his father, and Cheryl, Veronica’s girlfriend and current roommate, a viper of a human being who was at any moment a hair's breadth away from either venom or sweetness, and was determined to use her sharp tongue to excel as a lawyer.

With Jughead added to the mix, they could easily have been protagonists in a college age _Breakfast Club_ remake. It was only Betty’s natural empathy and social grace that seemed to keep the group of such colossal personalities from clashing dramatically.

The next time they all gathered together at the apartment, Betty didn’t even need to bring up the board games herself. She’d left them conspicuously by the TV, and within minutes of gathering in the common room, Kevin and Reggie had started picking through them.

Jughead was raiding the connecting kitchen for a snack as they debated between Taboo, Pictionary, and a copy of Trivial Pursuit from the nineties. 

As he passed by, a nutrigrain bar already half stuffed into his mouth, Betty called him over to the couch. She leaned back to look up at him, head arched backward to meet his eyes. “We’re playing Pictionary! Come be on my team, we’re uneven.” 

As he swallowed the large bite, he glanced up at the circle gathered around the room. Veronica and Cheryl were sharing a chair meant for one, and Kevin and Reggie were lounging across the floor, looking through the stack of cards. When he glanced back to meet Betty’s eyes, she was looking at him with excitement. For just a beat, he wavered. 

“Josie says she’s on her way,” Kevin said, glancing up from his phone.

“Yeah! My man, coming through!” Reggie raised his hand to give Kevin a high five. From the chatter Jughead had overheard earlier between them, this had much less to do with evening out their numbers, and more to do with Reggie’s budding romantic interest in Josie.

At the announcement, Jughead felt a familiar mix of relief and disappointment. He gave Betty a quick smile as he shuffled around the couch toward his bedroom. “Looks like you’re set.”

“Oh, but-” Before he could get very far, she reached out and gripped at his arm, swinging it playfully, “At least sit with us. You don’t have to play if you don’t want to.”

“I have homework,” he said half-heartedly, a reflex response.

Betty doubled down, flashing him an exaggerated pout. Her bottom lip curled, accentuating its soft pink color. “C’mon Juggie, Please?” With a sigh, he gave in. Betty bounced against the couch in victory. 

No one made a comment about his easy surrender, but his ears burned in response to the knowing looks Veronica and Cheryl were sharing. To hide his growing embarrassment, he sat down and feigned a deep, vested interest in the Pictionary rule book. 

Within twenty minutes, Josie McCoy, aspiring music artist and producer, had joined them, and Jughead had somehow found himself scrunched between Kevin and Betty on the couch. When their turn came around, they maneuvered around him to show each other the drawing pad, forcing him to be in the middle of the action.

Halfway through one attempt, Jughead watched as Betty made a weak attempt at drawing the Big Ben, and found himself stage whispering the answer to Kevin. This led to an immediate round of complaints from the others, that, instead of making him uncomfortable, left him laughing as Kevin and Betty both put their arms around him protectively, officially claiming him for their team. 

Despite their larger number, their team ended up losing to Reggie and Josie, who were much better at breaking the concepts down into simple drawings. Betty and Kevin were a little too ambitious with their drawings, and Veronica and Cheryl too literal.

After the game was over and the group at large became distracted with gossip and laughter, Betty prodded him in the arm with her index finger and looked up at him knowingly. “See, I told you,” she said with a teasing smile, “You had fun.”

He refused to give her the satisfaction of admitting it.

  
  


Only a week later, Jughead was cycling through TV channels when Betty sat down on the floor at the base of the couch and started playfully nudging at his leg. “Can I convince you to play something with me?”

“Another board game?” he groaned, but he could already feel himself giving in. He was bored.

Betty leaned her head on the sofa so she could look up at him, her smile was coy and confident, practically coquettish. She could tell that he would be easy to convince.

With a sigh, he surrendered and slid down to the floor so that he was next to her. “What are we playing?” 

“I’ve actually been meaning to show you something.” Betty pushed herself across the carpet toward the tv stand, using her feet against the floor as leverage. She pulled one of the boxes out from the stack of board games.

“You loved the Tracy True and the Baxter Boys series as a kid, right?”

Jughead gave a shrug, reluctantly meeting her eyes with a smile. The fact that Betty was a staunch devotee to Tracy True had come up several times since he met her, and he had admitted that he was pretty familiar with both series. What he hadn’t admitted was that by _pretty familiar_ , he meant that he owned first edition copies of the entire Baxter series. As a kid they had always been his sole gift request every time a holiday came around.

Jughead glanced down at the box now resting in Betty’s lap. “And what, exactly, does that have to do with Guess Who?”

Betty cleared off their small, heavily stained, hand-me-down coffee table, tucking several school books and the tv remote between the table legs. As she laid the box out on the table, she explained, “Do you remember those little character cards that used to come with new releases?”

“Uh, yeah. I guess. They were promo cards that had character descriptions on them, right?”

With pride swelling in her voice, Betty turned to him with one of two plastic boards in her hand, the small little faces of the characters flipped open to face him. “Look.”

Before Jughead could even fully process what he was looking at, a laugh built up in his throat. “Betty Cooper,” he said, his laughter filtering into the words. “That might be the nerdiest shit I have ever seen in my life.” 

Instead of the classic, nondescript characters Jughead was at least vaguely familiar with, each of the head cards had been replaced with cut outs of Tracy True and Baxter Brothers characters.

“I will have you know, I considered this my personal masterpiece as a child,” she said, even as she tried to force her expression into a frown, he could hear the traces of the laugh she was trying to hold in.

“I’ll bet your friends thought you were real cool.”

With a petulant sigh, Betty admitted, “No one really got it.”

“You don’t say.”

“Don’t even try to pretend you aren’t impressed.” She gave him a look from across the coffee table.

“I _am_ impressed.”

“Great. Let’s play.” Before he could object, she continued on. “The rules!” She put a finger up for emphasis. “No questions based on the character’s physical appearance. Determine which character it is by character and story facts only.”

“Who plays Guess Who on hard mode?” he teased.

“Oh, you don’t think you can do it?” she challenged.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then pick a card, Juggie.”

The game was completely ridiculous from the start, with each round, their questions growing more obscure. It got harder to even see the characters in front of him, because he was laughing so hard tears had begun to obscure his vision. The laughter between them was infectious.

In the end, his limited memory of Tracy True canon let him down. He’d eliminated the correct character at some point mid-game. 

“Wow, I can’t imagine,” Betty gloated, shaking her head with teasing exaggeration, “confusing _The Mystery of the Broken Xylophone_ and _The Conductor’s Secret_.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright. Clearly, I’m no match for your encyclopedic Tracy True knowledge.”

Betty moved the game boards aside, and slid over to sit next to him, resting her back against the seat of the couch. “You gave me a run for my money with the Baxter Brothers. It kind of makes me wish we’d known each other when we were kids, you know?” She was smiling at him, so bright and warm, he had to look away. 

He could imagine it easily. Exchanging books in class, sharing their theories on the mystery before finishing them. Somehow it felt natural to imagine himself back when he was young, still hiding under a knitted hat that was too big for his head, and have a young Betty right next to him with perfect pigtails and an open smile. To think of it left him with an unfamiliar and sharp longing. He would have loved her so much.

Betty disrupted him from his reverie, knocking her foot against his, their legs laid out next to each other across the floor.

“Thank you for humoring me,” she said, sweetly.

Jughead laughed, quick and short. He felt good, the buzz of their shared laughter left him feeling drunk with it, heady with euphoria. His words came out easily, when otherwise he would have been too shy to speak them. “I like humoring you.”

“Yeah?” Betty’s voice was soft, barely more than a breath. When he turned to look over at her, she was already watching him. There was something soft and intimate in her expression that sent a sudden wave of warmth up his spine. She didn’t move, but there was intention in her gaze. He could almost feel her hesitation through the tension building up between them. He didn’t look away, he barely dared to breath. Her eyes were dark, unfocused. He realized she was waiting for him, waiting to see if he would act. So he leaned down to meet her, and pressed his lips to hers.  
  
  


Jughead didn’t have extensive experience when it came to kissing. He could easily count the number of people he had kissed in his life on one hand. 

His first kiss had been with Ethel Muggs on the night of Junior Prom. 

He’d known Ethel had a crush on him long before then, but he’d pretended not to notice. Her attention made him uncomfortable, and he’d expressed his shyness back then through active avoidance. When he’d put some thought into it, partially due to the prodding of their friends, by all accounts he _should_ have liked Ethel. They’d had a lot in common. She was one of the nicest students at their school. She was cute and easy to get along with. She always went out of the way to make sure he was included when other people might have just overlooked him.

When she’d asked him to go to Junior Prom with her, he’d swallowed down all his usual excuses and agreed to go. Years later, he couldn’t remember the specifics of the actual dance, just his general awkwardness in between stilted conversations as he swayed with Ethel to the beat of pop songs with his hands at her hips.

A few hours later when the dance had ended, he’d walked Ethel home. The night had been still and quiet, interrupted only by the sound of his dad’s old dress shoes creaking as he walked and the soft clop of Ethel’s short heels along the pavement. When they reached her house, she turned to face him, a happy, but expectant smile on her face. She’d thanked him for the dance, and after an awkward pause, she had leaned forward to kiss him. 

He had been preparing himself for it the entire walk over, so he managed to keep his shoulders from locking up, and did his best to meet her kiss, his eyes shut tight. When she pulled away, Ethel had given him a peculiar look and her goodbye had sounded a bit deflated. 

Whatever she had expected from him, the kiss between them had clearly been a disappointment. Within the month, she had started dating Ben Button, and seemed all the happier for it.

That experience and the few others that eventually followed managed to convince him that kissing was maybe just not for him.

From the first moment, kissing Betty was different than any of his previous attempts. She was patient, one brief kiss, then another. Her hand against his chin softly guiding him. She met his eyes in between each kiss. Whatever she found there made her smile and lean in again. The kisses between them were slow and so soft, but each more confident than the last. 

It was a conversation through touch. A call and response. Before long, Jughead was matching her pace, initiating kisses himself, lost in the rhythm between them. She threaded her fingers through his hair, he cupped his hand against her cheek, then her neck. 

When they eventually slowed down, he had lost all sense of time. It could have been minutes, hours, that they’d been kissing. Betty was slow to pull away, her eyes closed, her eyelashes teasing the side of his cheek. When she slowly looked up at him, Jughead was struck all over again how beautiful she was. Her smile, warm and brilliant, her cheeks flushed, lips swollen; she was practically glowing.

The tender look on her face as she stroked his cheek with her thumb, was all for him. 

He went to bed flying high with emotions; his heart still pounding in his chest. Even as he eventually drifted off to sleep, he could feel himself smiling involuntarily.

It was about three in the morning when he woke up in a cold sweat. He felt a rush of dread first, as his waking mind was still catching up with his own panic. 

He’d kissed Betty. He’d kissed his roommate, the very person he had convinced himself not to have feelings for, and he’d done it like it was nothing. How did _she_ feel about kissing him? What did she expect from him? Was it a one time thing, or was it a _thing_? 

He was hit with a wave of nausea, his uncertainty twisting around in his gut. They hadn’t talked about what the kiss meant. He’d thought everything was fine—even good—in the moment, but how could he know for sure. What did _he_ know about kissing? What did he know about romance or relationships?

Jughead turned over and buried his head in his pillow, willing the endless cycle of thoughts in his head to stop. They didn’t. He felt foolish, embarrassed, and no matter how hard he gripped his fingers into the fabric of the pillow, the feeling would not go away.

The rest of the night passed slowly, but the morning came much too quickly.  
  


_Act normal_ , he told himself when he finally ventured out into the common room for breakfast. He didn’t feel normal, but when Betty greeted him with an energetic ‘Good Morning!’ he did his best to answer with a smile. Then he buried his face behind the cupboard door and spent far more time than usual staring at their two cereal options.

When he finally turned around, Fruit Loops box in hand, Betty had moved to the other side of the kitchen to pour a cup of coffee. For all that he was completely shaken up, Betty seemed to be completely unfazed. She chatted and asked about his plan for the day like she did every morning. He responded to her prompting, all while keeping his eyes firmly on his bowl of cereal.

When he finally got the courage to glance up at her, she was already watching him. As their eyes met, she responded with a soft smile. 

_It’s okay_ , her expression seemed to say.

She didn’t bring up the kiss. He didn’t know if he was disappointed or relieved.

  
  


After that, he could tell that Betty was doing her best to make sure things were still comfortable between them. He hated his own awkwardness, his innate desire to run away whenever they were in the same room. He did his best to push through his unease, watching TV next to her, sharing meals, things they had been doing naturally for the past year and a half.

But, even if everything else was the same, he had changed. He knew what it was like to kiss Betty Cooper, and he didn’t know what he was supposed to do with that knowledge.

  
  


It was a Thursday night and the day before a three day weekend, when Jughead came back from his evening ethics class to see that the gang had gathered at their apartment. As he stepped through the door, they practically cheered his arrival.

They’d brought alcohol, which wasn’t unheard of, but often led to rowdier nights.

Reggie had brought a pack of beer, and had a can open in his hand as he called out, "Welcome to the party, Juggo!" Veronica had a glass of red wine in a tall wine glass she had apparently brought with her to the apartment, and tipped it toward him in greeting. Jughead gave them a weak wave in response. 

As he headed across the apartment to drop off his bag, Betty intercepted him in the hallway, stopping him with a soft touch on his arm.

"Sorry, I didn't warn you," she offered. Normally, before a crowd gathering, she told him as far ahead of time as she could. "We kinda just ended up gathering here, but we can find somewhere else to go if you want."

"No," he said. Betty had been trying so hard to make things comfortable for him, this seemed like the least he could do. "No. It's fine," he insisted.

She looked uncertain, but asked, “If you’d like to join us, we’d love to have you.”

He didn’t even allow himself the option of turning her down. “Yeah, sure. That’d be fun.”

Betty responded with such a sudden, unrestrained smile, that it was worth the effort it had taken to quell his instinct to run.

As soon as Jughead sat down on the couch, Reggie handed him a beer. Jughead sipped at it awkwardly as the conversation carried on around him. Even though there was still space available next to him on the couch, Betty settled on the ground next to the coffee table.

Jughead allowed himself to sink into the background as the others moved onto discussing other subjects. Reggie had asked Josie out over the past week and had been shot down with little more than a bat of an eye. Kevin consoled Reggie with a comforting pat on the back. 

Cheryl and Veronica talked about their plans to get away for the weekend, off to one of Veronica’s parents vacation homes in the mountains. All much grander than his anticipated weekend of movie binging and writing an eight page paper at the very last minute. 

They’d been through a few rounds of drinks when Reggie started poking through the board games again. “Dude, we still haven’t played Twister.”

“Absolutely not,” Cheryl responded cuttingly. “I will not make a fool of myself for your amusement.”

“What about for Veronica’s amusement?” Reggie asked with a knowing raise of his eyebrow.

Cheryl just pursed her lips as her girlfriend laughed beside her.

“Actually, that gives me a brilliant idea.” Reggie put his palm flat against the coffee table dramatically. “A game of Strip Monopoly. Literally selling the clothes of our backs.” Jughead felt his stomach twist in his gut.

Beside him, Kevin practically cackled. “You want to sexify the longest, most boring board game that exists?”

“Hey, I like playing Monopoly,” Betty interjected.

“Of course you do,” Kevin said, affectionately sticking out his tongue out her.

“If we’re playing Strip _anything_ , there has got to be a better option than that.” Veronica stepped over Reggie’s legs to get to the stack of games. “Hmm, Strip Candyland has promise.”

“Can’t believe you’re sleeping on my Monopoly idea.” Reggie whined. “What’s better than trading clothes for money. And pulling a Go Straight to Jail card? So many options.”

Jughead stood up, much less casually than he had intended to. Betty looked up at him, and grew concerned at his expression.

“You all have fun with that,” he said. “Night.” And then he vacated the room as quickly as possible without literally running.

  
  


Once he was on the other side of his bedroom door, he was able to breathe properly again. He tried not to focus on how his plan to please Betty had failed.

He could still hear the chime of laughter from the living room. It dug under his skin, like a physical irritant. Jughead reached for his headphones on his desk, and shoved them over his ears before even plugging them back into his laptop. He didn’t bother to pick something to listen to, just hit play on what had last been in his music queue. He sat on his bed, back against the wall, staring at an open document with his eyes unfocused, hardly registering what was in front of him.

He hit the end of the playlist after five songs. At first, he didn’t move, his neck at an awkward angle against the wall after letting himself slide down, most of his body now laying across the bed. It didn’t register right away that he couldn’t hear any noise from the common room. He pushed himself up and pulled off his headphones. Nothing.

They must have felt awkward about his quick retreat and left to party somewhere else. Even though he’d been spared having to drown them out for the night, the quiet now left him feeling abandoned.

The new, frustrating wave of gloom he was starting to fall into was abruptly disrupted by a soft knock at his door.

“Juggie?” Betty called from the other side.

He’d thought she was gone, and it took him a few seconds just to reorient himself to this different reality. Jughead wiped the back of his hand across his eyes before he responded. “Yeah. Come in.”

Betty didn’t open the door immediately. There was a pause as she shuffled on the other side of the door. Betty opened the door by pushing her back against it, her elbow leaning against the door knob. She had two mugs in her hands, awkwardly pressed against her chest, spoon handles peeking out over the rims.

A waft of chocolate entered the room along with her.

“I brought dessert,” her voice was soft and sweet as always, but there was an unusual heaviness to it. 

Jughead reached out for the mug that she held out to him. Inside was a chocolate mug cake with a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top. It was a simple recipe Betty often put together on nights when she had a sweet tooth and wanted a quick and easy solution. The mug was still warm from the microwave. It was almost comforting. He dug into the cake, and took his time with the first bite, his lips sealed around the spoon, savoring the bite as he gently pulled the spoon back out.

With her mug still in her hands, Betty sat down at the foot of the bed.

“I’m sorry we made you uncomfortable, Jug. I sent them on to Reggie’s place.”

He was slow to swallow and slower to respond. “You didn’t need to do that, Betty.” 

Jughead sifted a hand through his hair, only realizing then that his hat had come off at some point after he’d laid down. He considered digging around for it, but thought somehow that might be even more embarrassing than not wearing it.

“I really didn’t mean to make things awkward,” he said eventually. “I’m just… I’m not good with that kind of thing.”

Betty was quiet. When he tilted his head to look at her, her expression was pensive. Her words formed cautiously, “I’ve been wanting to talk about… well, I wanted to ask, if what happened between us… if I made things weird by kissing you. And I’m sorry, if I did.”

He felt a flush rise up his cheeks and glanced away, focusing his eyes on the messy arrangement of books across his desk. “You didn’t-” his throat jammed up and he forced a cough to push through it. “I don’t want you to be sorry, Betty. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Betty twisted her body so that she was facing him, hand laid out across his bedsheet. “I made you feel uncomfortable…” She glanced around with her eyes, as if to emphasize her point. “...in your own apartment. I never meant for that to happen.”

“It’s not you,” he insisted. “Really. It’s just me. Sometimes I... freak out.” His nerves were starting to reverberate into his voice, only making things worse. He stared at her dainty fingers laid out in front of him instead of meeting her in the eyes. He forced himself to say the words. “I was there. I was as much in it as you were.”

Jughead heard her take a breath before she asked, “Was it something I did?”

“No, Betty,” he said in one breath. “I just… wasn’t sure what it meant. We’d never… I mean, I’m not saying it came out of _nowhere_ , but I…” This time he glanced up at her, instinctively. He couldn’t help it. As soon as their eyes locked, he glanced away again, but her expression stayed with him, even as he looked away. She was blushing too, she had almost the same uncertain, nervous look that he was sure mirrored his own expression. 

In a brief moment of bravery, he reached out to take her hand, squeezing her palm. Her fingers were shaking, just like his.

“I didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t know what you expected from me. And I panicked and clammed up instead.”

“Jughead,” she said, her tone direct. “I like you. I’ve known that I liked you for months, but I don’t expect anything from you that you don’t want to give. We can be friends, if that is what you want. I won’t push this onto you, and I’m sorry if that’s what I did when I kissed you.”

Jughead almost laughed. “I think I’ve always liked you. It was just easier not to think about until we kissed.”

“Jug,” Betty said, her voice catching on the word. She set her coffee mug down on the floor and crawled across the bed to sit next to him, reaching again for his hand when they were side by side. This time, Jughead didn’t look away, but he met her eyes as she spoke. “Tell me what _you_ want. What you would like us to be?”

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I’ve never even been in a relationship, I don’t know if I can even do that kind of thing.” He let go of her hand, running his hand through his hair anxiously instead.

Betty’s voice was gentle while she prompted him again. “Don’t know if you can do what?”

“I don’t know— a relationship!” His voice came out louder than he intended, but he could feel that familiar panic clutching at him from the inside, and words bubbled from his mouth. “I don’t know if I’m built for that kind of thing. I’ve never—I don’t know if I’d even want—” It felt juvenile, that he couldn’t even find the words.

Betty took pity on him and interrupted his babbling, “Do you mean sex?”

“That’s part of it,” he answered with a sigh, almost relieved to have the word out in the open. “I don’t know if I can give you the kind of relationship you want, Betty.”

“Okay,” she said simply. “You haven’t answered my question, though. What do _you_ want, Jughead. Pie in the sky, if everything could work out perfectly. What would you want?”

They were sitting shoulder-to-shoulder now, and even though they were alone in the apartment, Betty was speaking softly so that only he would be able to hear. He met her eyes again, and felt a strange thrill run through him as he had the sudden, unexpected urge to kiss her. 

Instead, he said, “I don’t want to be friends. I mean—” He licked his lips. “I would like to be in a relationship with you. If that’s what you wanted.”

“Okay,” Betty said. She was smiling. “And what would this relationship be like?”

“What do you mean?” Jughead asked, already feeling out of his depth.

“Like… would we hold hands?” As she spoke, she turned her hand facing palm up, resting against the bed. His hand moved to hold hers automatically. “Cuddle on the couch?” she continued. “Go on dates? Kiss?”

‘Yes, all of those things,” he said with some relief.

“And for the record, I’m okay if we don’t have sex, Jug. I like being with you. I would choose to be in a relationship with you, happily. And I just want you to be happy too.”

There was still a thought lodged in his throat, and it took him a few minutes to form it into words. Betty seemed to realize he needed time to think and sat patiently, still holding his hand.

“If we do this...I’d need it to be serious. If you get bored of being in a relationship with me and move on so you can have the kind of sexual relationship you want, then…” at the last minute he choked on his words, “then I’d rather we don’t do this at all.”

When he glanced back over at her, Betty’s eyes were clear and earnest. “Can I tell you what I want, Jughead?”

He took a slow breath, and nodded his head.

“What I want… all I’ve wanted was for you to touch me. As much as you are comfortable with, however you are comfortable with. Sexually or platonically, I don’t care. The kind of relationship I want is one with you. Being around you just makes me happy, and that’s all there is to it, Jug. I like you.”

He ducked his head, his mouth pulling into a smile of its own accord. Betty pushed her shoulder into his, affectionately.

“For the record,” he said, mimicking her phrasing, “I’m not saying that I wouldn’t want to have sex with you. I honestly... just don’t know.”

She smiled at him encouragingly. “You can set the pace, Juggie. I’m happy to figure it out with you.” 

When they parted ways for the night, Betty gave the barest motion toward him as if to initiate a kiss, but stopped herself at the last moment. He thought about it as he tried to drift off to sleep, that gut part of himself that wanted her to kiss him, that regretted that he hadn’t moved instead.

The next morning, when Jughead pulled himself out of bed, Betty was already getting ready to head out to run errands. Before she headed to the door, he walked into her path, and delicately pulled her toward him by the crook of her elbow. She was smiling, even before he leaned forward to kiss her.  
  


Being in a relationship with Betty was in some ways much less daunting than he had feared, and in others even more so. The day-to-day was largely the same, except that their time together felt more intentional than situational. Betty started to schedule hangouts with her friends on days when Jughead had late class, and managed to convince him to join a few times when he was free.

He’d expected the next time he saw Betty’s friends again to be painfully uncomfortable, but they treated him the same as ever. He would have assumed that they didn’t know about his and Betty’s relationship at all, if not for the wink Reggie sent his way and the lingering stare of judgement that Cheryl gave him.

As far as their physical relationship was concerned, Jughead could tell that Betty was holding herself back. He noticed, not through her attitude, but her eagerness when he chose to lean in to kiss her. He was trying to be braver, to get used to being an instigator while they both tried to navigate their new relationship.

If Betty had asked him how much and how often he liked to be kissed, he wouldn’t have known what to say, but as kissing Betty grew more familiar to him, the answer was revealing itself to be _for as much as possible, and as often he could_.

During his teenage years, he would have scoffed at the idea of making out during the run time of a classic film, but he found that with Betty, it was very easy to do. He grew braver all the time, running his hands over her legs, under her shirt. He learned to love the little surprised gasps she made as he ventured along her skin, and he liked the soft touch of her hands over the arch of his back.

  
  


It was during one such make-out session, that he escalated things by pulling Betty into his lap, then assisting her in taking off her shirt, then tossing it over the side of the couch.

Kiss after kiss, they found a rhythm. Betty rocked her hips into his, her fingers digging into his hair, and it all felt so good. Until, suddenly, it didn’t.

It was immediate, like a switch had been turned off, and his whole body had seized up with it.

He was made of disparate limbs, awkwardly jutting out in all directions. The shape of Betty’s body that had felt so right against him was now a foreign weight. It felt wrong, everything down to the joints between his bones, to his fingers and toes. _What was he doing. What was he doing, what the fuck was he even doing_.

A wave of revulsion swept through him. Like he’d hit the funny bone of his knee against a solid surface, but it reverberated throughout his entire body.

“Stop,” his words came out garbled, but Betty reacted immediately, pushing herself back off of his lap, settling onto the other side of the couch to give him space. Her hands were hovering midair, like she’d just let go of something burning hot.

And just like that, at the image of Betty flustered, wide-eyed and shirtless, his panic left almost as quickly as it had come. Instead, he was left with the growing realization that he had been freaking out over practically nothing. He felt heat flooding up his neck all the way to the crown of his head, and he slid further into the couch cushions, wishing he could just bury himself there.

“Sorry,” he said, unable to meet her eyes. “I freaked out. I don’t even know why.” _Why am I like this_ , he didn’t quite say.

“Jug, no,” Betty said, reaching for him, resting her fingers tentatively on his hand where it was curled around his knee. “Don’t apologize. You have nothing to apologize for. I’m sorry if I was going too fast.”

But that was exactly the problem. She hadn’t been going fast at all, she had always matched his pace, was always taking slow steps, and when he finally felt like things were starting to be okay, he just… 

“Are you okay?” Her words were quiet, warm. There was no judgement or frustration in her voice. He was the one frustrated, instead.

“Yeah… I’m fine. I thought I was enjoying it...I _was_ enjoying it. I’m sorry, I feel like I’ve led you on.”

“Hey,” Betty said sharply. “It’s not like that. We match each other’s pace, and we only do what we’re both comfortable with, right?”

He met her eyes, and gave a weak, sheepish nod. 

Betty responded by carefully climbing back into his lap. Her hands cupped his cheeks. “You’re precious to me, Juggie. You are worth treasuring.”

“You’re worth treasuring too,” he muttered back.

“You do treasure me, Juggie,” she smiled and pecked a kiss on his nose. “You don’t need to push yourself in order to show that.”

“No, I know… “ he took a breath before trying to explain. “Sometimes I think I want stuff like that. With you.” He sighed. “I’m sorry. I don’t even really know what I want, and I feel like I’m dragging you along with me.”

“Trust me, Jughead Jones,” her words were steadfast, and blunt, but there was a smile at the edge of her lips. “I can take care of myself.”

Jughead gave a breathy laugh, relieved by her playful attitude. It also triggered a thought just starting to form in his mind. He rested his hands along her waist, but didn’t voice the thought at first.

 _I want you to touch me_ , she’d said. _As much as you are comfortable with, however you are comfortable with._

He’d thought about it before, touching her, what it might be like. He let the thought sit in his mind again, holding it, turning it around like a physical object in his hand, waiting to be hit with another round of panic or revulsion, but it didn’t come.

Instead, he felt his resolve strengthening, built on a feeling that was not quite hunger, not exactly excitement, something close to how he felt when held Betty in his arms, but sharper, heated. He wanted to know what it was like to touch Betty Cooper. He wanted to be the one to touch her.

He glanced up at her tentatively. “What if I wanted to help... take care of you,” he spoke slowly, using her euphemism, doing his best to swallow down his nerves.

Betty went stiff in his arms, bright pink growing high in her cheeks. “Do you want to?” Her voice came out as a surprised squeak. “Are you sure?”

“I have no clue what to do, but if you show me,” he swallowed, reflexively licking his lips. “Yeah. I do.”

“Now?” her voice was still an off-tone mix of cheerful and strained.

“If you want?” he said, the words twisted into a question just as they left his mouth.

“Oh. Well, then.” Betty was unexpectedly frazzled, much more than she had ever been during any of their previous discussions about sex. She flitted about, her hand briefly touching his arm, then hovering indecisively. Eventually, she stood up, and reached for his arms. “Let’s… go to my room? I guess?”

He realized that he liked having this effect on Betty. As she led him to her room by the hand, he could see her blush spreading along her neck line. When she stepped into her room, she patted her arms against the sides of her legs awkwardly.

Jughead hadn’t had reason to visit her bedroom often. The space smelled of her, the sweet warm smell of the vanilla lotion that she liked to wear.

Betty motioned for him to sit on her bed, as she laid across it herself, her head cushioned by her pillows.

As he sat down next to her, she blinked up at him, her expression shy. Betty looked so vulnerable, laying out in front of him in a bra and jeans, that he was tempted to wrap her up in his arms. Instead, after a breath, he reached out and ran a hand down the side of her abdomen. She shivered under his touch.

She spoke, her voice almost in a whisper, “If you decide this isn’t for you, or if you start feeling uncomfortable, it’s totally okay to change your mind.”

“At a certain point, that would just be cruel, Betts,” he said with a brief laugh.

She breathed out, all seriousness. “I mean it. I only want this if it’s something you want to do.”

“I want to,” he said, simply. As he trailed his hand along her skin, _touch_ , he thought to himself, again. He asked, “Is it okay to take off your bra?”

“Oh.” Betty sat up awkwardly to twist her hands behind her back. “Of course.”

He reached around her to meet where her hands were. “I can do it.”

Their hands passed along each other as Betty let his hands slide underneath her. They were close now, Betty’s face only a few inches away from his, so he leaned in to kiss her as he pulled the latch of her bra loose.

As he pulled away, Betty let out a puff of air. He gently pulled the straps of her bra down her shoulders, and tossed them to the side. He was feeling brave. With each touch of Betty’s skin, his panic felt further away, and it emboldened him. 

If she wanted him to touch her, then he would. With one hand cupped around her breast, he ran his thumb over her nipple, and smiled at her soft intake of breath.

He leaned down again to kiss her, on the cheek, down to her neck, along her shoulder. A happy fire was burning in him, a near giddiness in the power he had just to _touch_. 

“Can I,” Betty’s words came out breathless, “Can I touch your face? Your hair?”

He glanced up to meet her eyes. “Yeah, of course. Any other requests?” he added, teasingly.

Her eyes tracked down his body for a moment, before meeting his again. She visibly swallowed before she spoke again. “Would you be okay with taking off your shirt?”

Without another word, Jughead pulled his shirt off and tossed it over the edge of the bed. As soon as he had turned back to her, she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him fierceless, chest to chest. When they pulled apart, they both breathed a long, slow breath.

“Will you show me what to do?” he asked quietly.

She nodded, and laid back. He leaned forward with her, one arm still underneath her and wrapped around her back.

“Are you sure this is okay? Really, sure,” she asked again.

“I’m sure, Betty.”

Without moving her eyes from his, she reached down to unbutton her pants. Jughead followed with his own hand, teasing his fingers just at the edge of her underwear. Delicately putting her hand over his, she guided his fingers under her underwear, and positioned the tips of his fingers between her legs.

Betty gave a muted gasp as he slid his fingers against her, feeling at her flesh. She was soft, smooth, and warm and with every shift of his fingers, her body twitched. Soon, she guided him again, helping him find a rhythm of smooth, slow circles over her center.

He watched her face as her eyes closed, eyebrows arched as she bit down on her bottom lip. When she opened her eyes again, she whispered, “Kiss me, Jug.”

So he did, kiss after kiss, their mouths fused. He continued to experiment with his pace and pressure, taking note of how she responded to even miniscule changes. Eventually, he shifted his hand, letting his thumb take over the constant rhythm, so he could use his over fingers to explore. He swallowed her gasp as he slid his fingers inside her. 

Soon, she was practically shivering against him, muttering against his ear, his name mixed in with half spoken words of praise. His own body was stiffly responding to the little sounds she was making, but his effect on her made him feel so unreservedly powerful, that he was able to accept his body’s reaction without any concern.

He shifted the position of his hand to ease tension in his wrist, and something about the change had Betty gasping, her fingers digging into his back. “Oh, god, just like that, Jug,” she said. “Don’t stop, don’t stop.” The words came out like a rushed mantra.

He used his free arm to hold her body against his, and did his best to find the pace that she wanted. Her hands were still digging deep into the crevices of his back, and her whole body was rocking to meet the motion of his hand. As she quivered underneath him, he was overwhelmed by a sudden all-consuming awe, that he had managed to build her up to this. Then, for just a brief moment, Betty opened her eyes to look at him with such a deep fire in her eyes, it hit his whole body like an electric jolt, and soon he was falling over the edge as well, even though he had done nothing to satisfy his own arousal.

Jughead pulled his hands from under her clothes as she eased down, and pressed his head against her abdomen, taking a few centering breaths. Eventually, he straightened himself to lean down next to her on the bed as Betty turned to face him.

Half-naked, with her hair spread out, cheeks flushed, her chest heaved in heavy, recovering breaths. Lying there, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“Thank you, Juggie,” she said, pulling herself up to kiss him on the mouth, the cheek, the ridge of his chin. 

For a quiet moment, they just sat together, until Jughead could no longer ignore the uncomfortable mess he’d made of his pants. “I need to go take a shower…to clean up,” he admitted. He was surprised to find that he didn’t feel ashamed about it as he would have expected to. Betty didn’t attempt to ogle him or tease him, she just gave him an understanding smile and nodded.

With a quiet voice she asked, “Will you come back here after? Come lay with me?”

“Yeah,” he answered with a small smile. 

He returned fifteen minutes later, showered and in a new set of boxers and a t-shirt to find Betty in pajamas with her hair braided behind her head. As soon as he was within arms length of the bed, she reached her arms out for him. Even before he fully had the covers over them, she had her arms around him, and settled herself against his body.

Jughead reached across her to turn off the light, and then let his body relax against hers. 

“Just so you know,” she said quietly in the dark. “I’m not going to start expecting this to be a regular thing.” He felt her bend her neck up to look at him, even though he could just barely make out the shape of her features.“Even if it was just a one time, it was lovely.”

Jughead laughed and pressed his lips to her hair. “What if it’s something _I_ want to do, now that I’ve been given a taste of power.”

Betty’s voice was laced with unvoiced laughter, “Oh, well then. I guess I’ll have to make do.”


End file.
